


Redux

by chaosmanor



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Reconciliation Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-14
Updated: 2003-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Redux

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

This was only the second time Orlando had been back to Viggo's house since they had quietly agreed that they should be apart and he had flown to Australia. Eighteen months had passed; Orlando had been in the Carribean filming 'Pirates'; then London; then Malta and now Mexico for 'Troy'.

The party at Viggo's was for Sean, who hadn't been to LA for ages, until the thought of yet another tedious weekend in Mexico had driven him to fly to LA with Orlando for two days. Some of the Rings people were there, though agents, script-writers and Bond folk outnumbered them.

Kate was curled up in his lap, leaning across the arm of the chair, being charmed by Elijah. Orlando reached out a hand and ran it down her spine, prominent through the thin material of her dress. He leant back as she squirmed on his lap, positioning herself so Elijah could whisper in her ear. He sincerely hoped that Elijah was not revealing some ghastly secret about him.

She was gorgeous and intelligent and not in the least demanding. She never complained about him being away filming; even flew out to Malta to keep him company. She was good company, and an extrovert. A complete change. About as different as he could have found. But there would be no poems from her. Sometimes he couldn't bear the thought that there would never be any more poetry for him.  
* * * * * * * * *

Orlando had been in Australia, living outside of Melbourne and filming 'Ned Kelly' when Viggo rang him. The phone call had jolted Orlando, made him realise he was getting used to being without Viggo; getting used to not hearing his voice.

After speaking of inanities for a moment, Viggo had said, "I have a favour to ask of you."

Orlando had gone to speak; gone to tell Viggo that of course Orlando would grant him his request, whatever it was; when Viggo had interrupted him. "Don't agree, you don't know what it is I want."

Orlando had longed to tell him that he had never known what Viggo wanted, but had kept silent.

"I've written a poem about us, about ending; and I want to include it in my next book, but … you need to hear it first. And tell me it's OK to publish it."

And then Viggo had read 'Communion' to him, from halfway around the world, and Orlando had cried. He knew that Viggo had cried too, though his voice hadn't changed as he'd read, and the poem had been printed in 'Coincidence of Memory'. And they had been apart ever since.  
* * * * * * * * * *

Late one Mexican night, Orlando had sat under the stars, feet dangling in the tepid pool, and laughed with Sean. They did this often, sat together at night; and Orlando knew people thought they were lovers because they were close.

This night, they had been drinking tequila, and had reminisced a little and laughed a lot. Sean had spoken after a silence. "Why did you and Viggo break up? I've never been able to figure it out."

Orlando had considered for a moment and said, "I'm not sure, except that we belonged to 'Rings', to New Zealand; and didn't belong to L.A. or London, or anywhere else we were." Then after more silence, "Have you asked Viggo?"

Sean nodded. "He wasn't sure either. This puzzles me. I've been divorced three times and can tell you, in excruciating detail, what happened each time. Why each marriage ended. Who said what. It's always been painfully clear why the relationship failed."

Sean waited for Orlando to speak, but he didn't.

"But he did tell me that he regretted losing you. That he still loved you."

Orlando leant forward and studied the reflected stars wavering in the pool. "You're probably not supposed to tell me that, Sean. No matter how much tequila you've had."

Sean made a soft noise of dismay in his throat. "You're right. He's going to hate me."

Then Orlando had stood and left, tracking damp footprints back to his room.

 

Orlando had lain on his bed, eyes wide open, his breathing slow and steady. He slowed his breathing even further, feeling his heart rate following; finding the control he needed not to break down completely. He wouldn't, couldn't cry. Not about Viggo. Not again.  
* * * * * * * * *

Kate found Orlando in the family room at the party, talking excitedly with Elijah and Dom, and pulled him aside.

"I need to go to the toilet," she whispered.

"The loo's on the left, near the laundry," he whispered back.

"I've been waiting for ages, and there's giggling and thumping going on."

Orlando looked around. Elijah and Dom were standing by the kitchen table, doing obscene things with guacamole and fingers, so it wasn't them. If it wasn't 'Lij and Dom, it wasn't anyone he could just interrupt. "The garden?" he asked helpfully.

Kate grinned and said "Orli. I'm a girl. Remember? All the testosterone here is getting to you."

Orlando grinned back at her. "Follow me."

 

He led her through the crowd to the staircase to the second floor. The stairs were in darkness to dissuade the guests from venturing into the private rooms, but she followed him up and along the corridor. He opened the door to Henry's bathroom and flicked the light on.

The darkness returned as Kate shut the door, and Orlando stared at the half-forgotten paintings in the hallway, monochrome in the lost light. The door to Viggo's bedroom was ajar, and Orlando found himself drawn to the sliver of golden light sliding across the hall floor. He pushed the door open further, and stepped back in time, to when he had shared the room.

The air smelt of human sleep and ever so faintly of paint thinners. The bedside light was on; bedclothes rumpled at the foot of the bed. Beside the bed there was a stack of books nearly as tall as the bedside table, and two books were open face down on the sheets. There was a pile of clothes on the floor next to the dresser.

The floor. The innocuous tan carpet was covered by a rug of swirling greens and blues that hadn't been there before. Orlando knew why.

He had been somewhere, London maybe, had flown in late at night. Viggo had pulled him into the bedroom, locking the door; had stroked him until he was moaning against the hand clamped across his mouth to stop him from waking Henry. He had wound up on all fours on the carpet, Viggo sliding into him; burning him with ecstasy. The fingers of one of Viggo's hands had been pushed into his mouth, silencing him; before moving to slickly stroke his cock. He had come quickly; far too quickly; as soon as Viggo had touched him. His cum had stained the carpet, becoming a private joke between them; part of their history. The night he had ruined the carpet. He supposed that Viggo hadn't thought it very funny anymore after they had broken up.

He moved across the room and turned off the bedside light. Another part of their history. Viggo had always annoyed him by leaving lights on.

He heard the loo flush, and was waiting by the bathroom door when Kate opened it.

 

The next morning, Sean was sitting in the kitchen at Viggo's, where he had stayed, drinking coffee and watching Viggo deal with the detritus from the party the night before. Viggo stood up from loading the dishwasher and said, "Did you go into my room last night?"

Sean shook his head. "No. Why? Was something touched?"

"Not really. My light was turned off when I went to bed, and I'd swear I left it on."

Sean shrugged. "That doesn't make sense. You must be mistaken."

Viggo leant against the bench top and thought of the one person who might have turned his light off.

 

Henry and Sean were engrossed in a detailed discussion about the fight sequence in 'GoldenEye' whilst Viggo unpacked the dishwasher. Sean looked out of the kitchen window to the driveway where a car had just pulled up. He called out, "Viggo, can I use your car to take Henry for waffles?"

Henry looked at Viggo. "Sweet. Can we Dad?"

Viggo pulled his head out of the cupboard where he was stacking glasses. "Sure, keys are by the front door."

There was a knock at the door and Sean said, "I'll get that. Com'n Henry."

 

A moment later, Orlando was standing in the kitchen, staring at the floor.

"Orlando."

He met Viggo's eyes. "I went into your room last night."

"I know. I worked that out."

They stood in silence, and Orlando looked out of the window.

Viggo hitched himself up onto the bench top, so they were in their familiar places in the kitchen: Viggo sitting on the counter; Orlando leaning against the fridge. They had drunk coffee like this in New Zealand for so many mornings. Had shared this kitchen briefly too. Like the bedroom the night before, the remembered intimacy shook Orlando.

Viggo spoke first. "Sean told me what he'd told you. Wanker."

Orlando swallowed and turned to Viggo. "Is it true. Do you still love me?"

The vulnerability in Viggo's eyes answered the question even before he whispered, "Yes." Then, a little louder, "What happens now?"

Orlando shook his head. "I have no idea." Then he was across the kitchen, feathering his lips across Viggo's, murmuring the words again. "I have no idea."

Viggo watched out of the kitchen window as Orlando climbed into his car a moment later.

 

When Sean and Henry came back, Orlando's car was gone and Viggo's studio door was resolutely closed. Sean went to open the door and Henry said, "You can't go in. Not when the door is closed."

Sean raised an eyebrow at Henry. "What's he going to do? Cut off my allowance?"

Henry grinned and said, "I suppose not, but he'll cut mine off if he thinks I encouraged you," and disappeared into his bedroom.

 

Viggo was leaning against the window, staring out, when Sean entered.

"Well?" Sean demanded.

"I think you're right. I think there's a chance."

Sean nodded. "Told you. I know all about failed relationships. I know enough to see when one hasn't failed."  
* * * * * * * *

Filming in Mexico was proving to be tedious and after a day of pointlessly standing in the blazing sun, the cast and some of the crew were close to mutiny. Orlando was reminded painfully of Helm's Deep, with its endless night shoots and pouring rain. At least here they weren't freezing. After dinner, some of the cast were over in the crew accommodation, drinking Coronas and venting. There was nothing like listening to a grip's day to make you glad you were an actor. Sometime through the evening, Sean had become drunk enough to need to sit down and had found an armchair. Orlando, still sober out of fear of shooting the next day with a hangover, had found him and climbed into his lap, called him 'honey' and kissed him.

"You know, I'm not getting laid because everyone thinks we're bonking," Sean griped.

"I thought it was just your charming personality that was scaring them away," Orlando replied.

Sean laughed. He was getting grouchier and grouchier as the shoot progressed, and had that day told Madeline from Make-up to fuck off when she asked him to stand still as she retouched him. Madeline had promptly burst into tears, and Sean had had to take her to dinner to make it up to her. Nobody swore at Madeline.

Brendan knelt down in front of them and said, "So, Orli, is cold and wet worse to film in than this heat? I've heard 'Lord of the Rings' was a bitch of a shoot that way."

"Far worse. The nine week night shoot in the rain was ghastly. They kept giving us stupid foil blankets to wrap ourselves in after we had become drenched. Like that was going to help."

Sean shook his head. "My character was mercifully dead by then. But I've got photos of the orcs line dancing to keep warm. Bootscooting Uruk Hai."

"I'd love to see that. Got any photos with you here?"

Sean nodded. "Get off me Orli and I'll go and get them. And don't let anyone steal the chair, will you?"

Sean was back in a couple of minutes, and Orli climbed back into his lap. Sean rifled through the thick envelope of photos and found the Uruk Hai photos that Viggo had taken. Whilst Sean was laughing and talking about the problems the orcs had had with facial prosthetics and the rain, Orli flicked through the rest of the photos in the envelope.

The noise of the people around him became distant- even Sean's rumbling laugh seemed like it was at the other end of a tunnel- as Orlando looked at the photos. There was one of Viggo as Aragorn, kneeling as he concentrated on preparing for a scene. His sword was held before him as he sighted along the blade, and Orlando's chest felt tight as he remembered seeing Viggo do this a hundred times. There was one of himself sprawled across Viggo's lap, much as he was across Sean's at that moment. Orlando's face was alight with excitement, he was waving his arms in the air and his hands were slightly blurred in the photo. But Viggo was watching Orlando's face not his hands, and the depth of his feelings for Orlando showed.

Sean took the photos out of his hands and put them back in the envelope, saying "Put them away before anyone else wants to see them," and then, when Orlando handed him the photos, pushed the envelope back at Orlando and said, "No, you take them."

Orlando slid the envelope into the pocket of his jeans, and Sean squeezed him around the ribs and kissed his cheek.

"Of course you're not going to get laid if you keep kissing me," Orlando pointed out.

 

Orlando sat cross-legged on his bed, the photo of Viggo in his hands. They were so much in love then, filming 'Rings'. Somehow, that hadn't translated to the ordinary world and being apart. Being with Sean again filming 'Troy', Orlando realised how close the whole cast had been then. He wondered now if he would have felt restless and disconnected anyway after 'Rings' had finished, if there hadn't been anything wrong between Viggo and himself after all.

He reached for his phone.

Henry answered and yelled for Viggo, telling Orlando about his appalling homework whilst Viggo's footsteps got closer and closer to the phone.

"Hang on," Viggo said, and then Orlando heard a door closing and the background music disappeared.

"Hi Viggo, it's Orlando."

"So Henry yelled."

"Is it alright for me to call you? I just…need to talk to you."

"It's more than alright. Is there something in particular that you want to talk about?"

The softness in Viggo's voice made Orlando's stomach flip.

"Yes. Can we talk about why we broke up?"

There was a pause and Viggo said, "Yes. I guess so," and there was shadow across his voice.

Orlando took a deep breath. "I thought… I thought that you wanted someone who could be there all the time for you; that I was too young to give you what you needed. That I was going to be away so much that you should have the chance to have a full-time relationship with someone else."

There was silence. Orlando couldn't even hear Viggo breathing, he must have covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

Then Viggo spoke. "I've had a full-time relationship, and I spent a fair bit of it wishing I could be by myself some of the time. As for you not being mature enough for me, I'm hardly a shining example of responsible behaviour myself. I didn't see that as an issue. I thought that you shouldn't be tied down to one person when you were going to be away so much. That I would be stopping you from enjoying yourself and being with other people you were meeting. I thought that that was what you wanted."

Orlando put down the photo he was holding, suddenly aware his hand was shaking so much the photo was crinkling. Tears were sliding down his face and his voice sounded thick when he spoke. "You were wrong. That wasn't what I wanted. You were the only lover I wanted."

The softness was back in Viggo's voice when he said, "Don't cry. Please. I don't think I can bear it."

"I want to see you. Is that alright?"

"Yes. I don't think I can fly down tonight. I can't get anyone to look after Henry at this little notice. I could come down tomorrow."

"No, filming is hellish at the moment and tomorrow's Friday, right? I'll come back to LA tomorrow night."

"Call me; let me know what flight you're on. I'll pick you up."

"I'll just catch a cab to your place. I'm bound to be delayed."

 

Orlando sat on his bed and picked up the photo of Viggo again. There was a second phone call he had to make. Now he had to call Kate.

 

After a brief and difficult call to Kate, Orlando made his way back to the room where he had last seen Sean. Sean saw his face as he pushed his way into the crowded room and was out of his chair in an instant. His arms were around Orlando and he pulled him out of the crowd and into the corridor.

"What's happened?" Orlando shook his head mutely and hugged Sean. "My room. You need a drink," Sean said decisively.

 

Viggo was kneeling on his studio floor when there was a tap on the partly open door. He'd opened the carton with Orlando's photos in to find the folder of private photos, and had become engrossed in the ordinary photos that were now spread out around him on the floor.

He checked the folder was closed and slid it under his knee. "Come in, Henry."

Henry sat down facing him across the photos. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. What makes you think it is?"

"Last Sunday, when Orli came over, Sean dragged me out of the door. I didn't even get to hug him. Fair enough; you guys must have plenty to talk about. But he was gone when we got back. Then he phones, and he hasn't phoned since forever. Now, you're playing your 'Missing Orli' CD and looking at his photos."

Viggo nodded. He was, indeed, playing the CD that reminded him most of Orlando. And the photos were, undeniably, photos of Orlando. Henry was an observant kid.

Viggo looked at Henry. Henry was fifteen now, and rapidly growing up. He was old enough to know. "It seems that when Orlando and I broke up, we each thought it was what the other one wanted. But it wasn't. We're just trying to sort it out now, trying to make sense of it." He looked back at the photo in his hand, a picture of Orlando in full Legolas kit asleep on a couch in the production offices.

"Does this mean you're going to get back together? Because that would be the best."

"No, it doesn't mean we're going to get back together. It means we're trying to understand each other and what happened."

Viggo looked up from the photo he was holding and Henry was grinning at him.

"But you want him to come back, don't you?"

Viggo sighed. Henry was the halfway point between him and Exene, which made him inquisitive and persistent, unlike Exene who was inquisitive and easily sidetracked.

"Yes. I would love to be with him again. Happy now?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have homework you're avoiding?"

Henry winced, said, "Damn, was hoping you wouldn't notice," and bounced out of the room.

 

It was late when Orlando flew into LA. It was late when Viggo opened the door to him, and hugged him hard. Orlando seemed nervous, but Viggo tossed his pack at the foot of the stairs, next to Henry's school bag, and pushed him gently towards the family room.

A moment later, Viggo handed him a beer and flopped down on the couch next to him. "Cheers."

Perplexed by the relative quiet of the house, and the absence of a mad stampede down the stairs, Orlando asked, "Henry's asleep?"

Viggo smiled. "I doubt it. He's at a friend's house. Not that he seems to sleep much anyway. I'd always heard that teenagers were slothful creatures, but no one seems to have told Henry."

It was so easy for Orlando to put his beer down and stretch out on the couch with his head in Viggo's lap. Orlando smiled easily when Viggo tugged on his curls and pushed his hair off his face. His hand was light when he reached up and brushed his fingers down Viggo's face. He sat up and pressed his lips to Viggo's.

Viggo's eyes stayed closed when Orlando pulled away, and the softness that had been in his voice when they had spoken on the phone was visible on his face too.

Orlando moved, clambered until he was astride Viggo and cupped his face in his hands. He whispered, "I still don't know what this means."

Viggo's head nodded slightly in his hands, and he opened his eyes slowly. Orlando was transfixed by the depth of his eyes, greyblue with love, and leant forward once again and kissed him lightly.

Viggo pulled away, lips tingling from the kiss. "Bedroom?"

 

Viggo was uncertain how he made it up the stairs; knew only that he was on his bed and that Orlando was with him. It was Orlando who spoke. "What do we do now?" he asked softly.

"Will you let me love you?"

Orlando nodded and Viggo reached out a hand and touched Orlando's lips. "Will you let me kiss you?" And Orlando nodded again, and Viggo leant closer to him and let his lips settle over Orlando's.

This was heaven; better than he had ever imagined it might be. Orlando kissed back and sighed against his mouth and moved closer to him, sliding his arms around him. Orlando shifted his weight against Viggo, pressing firmly against him and his tongue flickered against his lips.

Viggo rolled onto his back, pulling Orlando with him, and Orlando was over him, kissing him deeply; his body heavy on Viggo's.

Orlando pulled back and Viggo opened his eyes and grinned at Orlando and spoke. "I've fantasised about this for so long, dreamt of being allowed to touch you." A shadow crossed Orlando's face, and he mentally kicked himself for having spoken and broken the rhythm.

Orlando leant forward and brushed his lips over Viggo's. "I made myself stop fantasising about you or I thought I'd go crazy. I wanted to last night, after we'd spoken. Your voice reminded me of…so much. But Sean fed me scotch until I crashed on his bed."

Then they were kissing again and Viggo felt his control slipping away under the rising maelstrom of emotion and sensation. Orlando was in control, miles ahead of him; kneeling over him, hands everywhere. He had managed to find some bare skin and was vaguely aware that he wanted to get his mouth onto it, when Orlando grasped his cock and started to stroke. And when Orlando scraped his nail across the puckered skin of his ass, Viggo heard himself moaning, and felt a surge of desire at the idea of being fucked by Orlando again.

Viggo groaned and looked down at Orlando's crotch. He hadn't managed to get his hands there yet, Orlando hadn't given him the chance, and Orlando's cock was straining the fabric tight, dampness leaking through the material.

Then Orlando flicked his wrist and Viggo closed his eyes as pleasure washed through him; and he reached blindly for Orlando's cock, pulling his pants open. Viggo forced his eyes open as they stroked each other, and watched in amazement as Orlando's face flushed with desire, losing the remnants of the emotional strain Viggo had seen before. Orlando's eyes lost focus, slipping from Viggo's face and he bit his bottom lip, letting go of Viggo's cock, taking control of his own.

Viggo watched ecstasy light Orlando's face as he began to come, then cried out loud with surprise and pleasure as the hot wetness splashed along his own cock. When Orlando gripped his cock tightly and stroked him again with a hand slick with his own cum, Viggo arched his back and came, overwhelmed by the slippery tightness of Orlando's grasp.

Orlando collapsed down onto the bed next to him, licking his hand. Viggo grinned at him and reached out and gripped his wrist, guiding the hand to his own mouth and began to lick his hand clean. When Viggo slipped two fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, something like awe lit Orlando's face and tears formed in his eyes.

Viggo let go of the hand and pulled Orlando close in his arms. "I'm sorry love, what have I done wrong?"

Orlando shook his head against Viggo's chest. "Nothing; I think my eyes are just leaking."

 

Sometime during the night, Orlando whispered, "Love you," and sometime during the night they both knew that Orlando had come home.

 

There was a crash as the front door burst open; a quick glimpse of teenagers and the sound of multiple feet running up the stairs. Henry called out, "Dad, Daniel and Maxie have come over. Is that OK?" then appeared in the kitchen.

Henry hugged Orlando quickly and said, "Hey, Orli. I didn't get a chance to even say 'Hello' to you last week. Can I get into the fridge?"

Orlando moved away and stood beside Viggo, who slid an arm around him. "Hi, Henry."

Henry leant into the fridge and picked up cans of soft drink before turning to look at Viggo and then flicking his eyes back to Orlando. "Stuff's happened, hasn't it?"

Viggo nodded and slid his hand to rest it on the nape of Orlando's neck. "Yeah, we're back together again."

Henry beamed at them, dropped the cans on the counter and hugged both of them at once. "Wonderful. Do you guys want me to stay at Daniel's tonight too?"

Orlando laughed. "No. It would be great to see you again."

"Sure?" Henry asked, then picked up the cans and thundered up the stairs.

Halfway up, he paused and leant over the balustrade so that he could see into the kitchen. He nodded to himself. They were kissing.

 

When Henry got to his room, Daniel and Maxie had his copy of "The Making of 'The Lord of the Rings'" open and were considering a picture of Legolas.

Maxie said, "Is that Orlando Bloom in your kitchen?"

Henry nodded. "Sure."

Daniel said, "Your Dad knows lots of famous people, doesn't he?"

Henry looked puzzled for a moment. "Orli's not a famous person; he's my Dad's boyfriend."


End file.
